#rhaenyra targaryen fan fiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

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Ok so how about Rhaenyra x Harwin’s wife!reader being gay at Court and confusing the fuck out of everyone who were expecting them to hate each other.

I just know there'd be a polycule if he had been married lol

I wanted to squeeze this into Pride month, but time was not on my side. Anyway, thank you for your request. I've altered it slightly to fit my WLW agenda, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Warnings: Allusions to smut, but nothing too spicy. Mentions of character death. Word count: ~700

You’d never liked to share. It had been something you had learned to do because you had to. If you wanted the affection of your Princess, you’d have to accept that the Commander of the City Watch desired her too. Rhaenyra was all too eager to please you both, and so you’d settled into an arrangement which allowed for her to entertain the both of you.

By day you were the dutiful wife of Ser Harwin Strong and lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. By night you were tangled between Rhaenyra’s sheets, a deep seated ache of satisfaction settling within you as you watched her fall apart around your tongue and fingers. That was unless it was his night, and then you’d go to sleep alone, pushing down the acrid sensation of jealousy that rose within your throat, threatening to suffocate you.

It wasn’t that you minded Rhaenyra being with Harwin; your marriage to him was purely out of convenience, an alliance to placate the Strong family’s desire for him to finally settle down, and to avert suspicion of the close nature of both your relationships with the Targaryen Princess. Who would dare to question Rhaenyra spending so much time with her lady in waiting? And who could deny your lord husband for simply wishing to be in the presence of his lady wife? You felt no envy when it came to your husband, you didn’t love him, but there was plenty when it came to Rhaenyra. She’d never fully be yours.

You had done your duty in giving Harwin children - another ruse to avoid supposition - and birthed him a son and a daughter. You loved your children dearly, but had taken no joy in the act of creating them. Harwin’s body felt wrong against your own, it was hard where Rhaenyra was soft. The familiar scent of rosewater and dragon smoke you’d come to love was nowhere to be found in his natural musk. You were grateful to have struck an agreement with him upon the birth of your second daughter that no further marital visits between the two of you were necessary.

Rhaenyra’s own children bore no resemblance to Laenor, which was both amusing and unsurprising to you. You and your husband kept her so busy, she scarcely had time to couple with her own, but you had the distinct impression that she had no desire to, and neither did he. You’d overheard the whispers at court; your children and hers could have been siblings. Essentially, they were, but that was something you’d never admit aloud, and neither would she.

It is a bright, warm day and you are basking in the rosy glow of having your Princess all to yourself. Harwin has been called away to deal with a matter at Harrenhal, leaving you and Rhaenyra alone. The pair of you have spent the afternoon enjoying the Red Keep’s gardens and sipping on light peach wine, the effects of which have made you feel carefree, lightheaded and more than a little careless in the familiarity of your interactions.

You are oblivious to the pointed stares of those seated around the dining table as you wrap your lips around Rhaenyra’s fingers, lapping the viscous liquid from the tips of them as she laughs softly while hand feeding you honeyed fruits. The sweetness envelopes your tongue, causing you to emit a satisfied “mmm”, as she watches you, a hunger that you know all too well lighting up her vibrant blue eyes.

The two of you giggle recklessly as you stumble towards her quarters, not caring who sees as you haphazardly pluck at the lacing of each other’s gowns. You make no effort to be quiet when the pair of you writhe against each other, hot and sticky, as the humid air clings to every naked curve put on display. A desperate clash of lips, teeth and tongue that leaves you both exhausted but happily sated.

It is only when the morning comes and brings with it the arrival of the news of the fire at Harrenhal that your demeanour becomes more subdued. You fight the urge to smile at the revelation of your husband’s death, horrible though it is, you have never liked to share.

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #rhaenyra targaryen fan fiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fan fic #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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lostchildofthenewworld · 18 days

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oh i see the hotd fandom has quickly reached the levels of racism in the asoiaf fandom concerning non-white/non-valyrian characters; how majority fandom ships a problematic white couple at the expense of the poc around them and how it’s detrimental to the narrative. ah yes, i am familiar with your game…unfortunately

#i mean…why are you all acting surprised lol #it’s the same way RLs fans act as though Elia and her children are an inconvenience to that shit catastrophic sham of a relationship #and how daemyra fans act as though Laena and Nettles are unworthy and don’t expose the true rotten underbelly (especially in nettles’ case)#of Valyrian supremacy and that Rhaenyra was a raging racist against a girl who may have be groomed by her husband when they had an open #marriage and he was already fucking his white worm mistress on Dragonstone while Rhaenyra slept a few doors down #so i mean…what are we arguing about here? fandom #is going to be racist and shit heads #that’s just what they and are and show writers are always going to play up the white ships because it’s easier than have to truly analyze #characters and their motives/desires and how their actions have consequences that directly hurt them and the people around them #but I digress - you get into enough fandoms and you realize racism both in fandom and fiction just mirrors reality and you pick your battles #anti hotd #anti hotd fandom #anti daemyra #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #anti rhaenyra stans #anti got fandom #fandom critical #fandom criticism #fandom critique #asoiaf

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bottlesandbarricades · 11 months

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The Hour of Ghosts

Summary: A short story exploring the supernatural consequences of the Dance of the Dragons. Word Count: 2961 Warnings: Major spoilers for House of the Dragon season 2 / Fire & Blood, Major Character Deaths, Suicide, Mental Illness, Violence, Graphic Injury, Spooky Themes A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing something hotd-related and is essentially my coming-out-of-writing retirement fic to ease myself back into writing. Big thank you to @beaconofthehightower for pushing me to finish this and @dreamymoomin for beta reading. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my silly little ghost story 👻

The Dance of the Dragons left deep scars on the Seven Kingdoms, political and otherwise. Although the literal stench of death was vigorously scrubbed clean, the stains remained, ingrained into the very fibre of the people and the world left behind.

The battered, burnt banner of fire, blood and loss hung over the ruins of a once noble house. Hastily patched and practically mended with rough hands attempting to salvage what remained of House Targaryen and restore order to the realm. The bitterness of it all stuck to the tongue like ashes in your mouth - it had been for nothing.

No one had won; everyone had lost.

The generations to come would debate the facts and wage their own war with words, for and against each side’s claim in volume after volume of biassed histories. Others would simply gloat with the gift of hindsight, suggesting that those involved should have foreseen that a war of kin slaying kin and dragon fighting dragon would never have had a glorious victor.

As the years passed, the memories of the war faded from the sharp, throbbing string of freshly cut wounds to aching battle scars. Moving into that part of the collective memory, where the lines between fact and legend become murky and confused. Truths became as tangible as wisps of smoke from an open hearth, sewn together with the thread of imagination by every wet nurse in Westeros.

Something haunted these lands - collective trauma manifesting and twisting into tales of ghosts, ghouls and fantasm.

From the North shore of the God's Eye, where the blackened ruins of Harrenhal sit decaying, it is said that some evenings as the sun drops below the Western horizon, a high-pitched whistle can be heard in the wind. A piercing unnatural sound that makes the blood in your veins run cold.

To the native smallfolk, this sound is a well-known harbinger, a sign to shutter your windows tightly and turn in for the night - less you wish to glimpse something eerie illuminated in the moonlight over the inky black water.

The story goes that the shrill sound of Prince Daemon's mount, Caraxes, is always followed, even on the clearest of nights, by a rumbling like thunder, so loud that it sends ripples through the lake - the roar of the once mighty war dragon, Vhagar.

Phantom snarls shake the ground, hailing the infinite clash between the Blood Wyrm and the she-ancient dragon of the one-eyed Prince, Aemond Targaryen.

The sound of wings that no longer beat and gnashing jaws that have long since crumbled to dust echo for dozens of miles. Sparks of white-hot dragon fire gone cold reflected in the water below. As spectral flashes of red and bronzy green scales appear against the colourless void of night, weaving and merging like a coil of translucent serpents, struggling and writhing for dominance.

Shades of memory replay - Caraxes’ jaw locked tight around the larger dragon's throat, as Vhagar clawed, bit, and ripped in bloody retaliation. Tearing scales from flesh, and flesh from bone with the ease of Valyrian steel.

However, most unnerving are the two pale princes themselves mounted on the ghastly long dead beasts, as silver as their hair was in life, both gaunt with death and cadaverous to the eye. Sallow skin pulled taut over their skeletal faces, cheeks stained with tracks of red from bloody tears, which ran from sunken eyes.

Two souls destined to be locked in a battle for eternity, forever to play out their mutually assured destruction. The elder fated to leap from his dying mount and drive his blade of moonlight into the younger’s skull - again and again overlooked by Black Harren’s accursed seat.

A sickening and frightening spectacle for mortal eyes to perceive, yet in the absence of fear you might say there was a chilling beauty to the scene. Always to end the same way - poetically some would say - in fire and blood.

To the south, high above the city of King’s Landing upon Aegon’s Hill, the mighty Red Keep plays host to many ghosts of its own. This is no surprise as many people would wager that enough blood had been spilt within its walls over the years to fill the Blackwater. The castle is plagued by ghouls from across the ages, some from the days of the conqueror, himself.

Folk could pass many a long winter’s night recalling the countless tragedies of that castle and those who were said to remain there. It appeared that this war of dancing dragons only added to that grisly spectral collection.

It is Maegor’s Holdfast, where servants don't dare linger alone and guards dread to be posted in fear of hearing her. The whisper of phantom sobbing that murmurs just beyond the reach of your ears or more terribly ghoulish shrieks of anguish that grasp your throat with fear and settle in your chest. It is the sound of grief-driven madness consuming a gentle, yet tortured soul.

Even as the years passed, the agony of Queen Helaena’s bereavement was palpable, the sounds of her anguished cries were enough to drive anyone to madness. They consumed you, drowning you in sorrow and dragging you down with suffocating melancholy.

Some say that Helaena’s haunting was part of what drove her Mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower to her own derangement in the years following the war.

Tormented, not only by the loss of her three sons but also by the cries and whimpers of her dead daughter, which echoed off the pale red stone. Confined within the very same walls that had been sweet Helaena’s home turned prison in the last half year of her life before she had flung herself from the window to her death, impaled on the spikes below.

Alicent Hightower had been harshly punished for her sins. The feeling of being trapped, one way or another, had been a constant companion throughout her life. Yet it seemed being locked away, like her daughter before her, was the final straw.

No needle and thread nor book could save her sanity.

She spent her time attempting to converse with people unseen, sickened by the colour green and longing to hold and comfort her dearest babe in distress whom, like the rest of her children Alicent could no longer picture the face of.

On her deathbed, it appeared that the raging fever quieted the madness and allowed for moments of clarity and reflection for the Queen in chains. As expected, Alicent spoke at length of her regrets and confessed her transgressions. It seemed for the first time in a very long time, Alicent Hightower was at peace.

“I want to see my sons again.” Alicent had said, as her life ebbed away. “And Helaena, my sweet girl.”

The Septa who sat in vigil over Queen Alicent that night, failed to mention everything that happened in the final hours of Alicent’s life in her official account. What the poor woman had witnessed as the rain lashed against the castle windows had left her shaken, clutching her seven-pointed star so tightly that each corner had left tiny cuts on her palms and fingers.

At the hour of the wolf, the Stranger had come for Alicent Hightower, but it appeared death was not alone.

The Queen’s breaths had become shallower and shallower until finally, the death rattle had set in. It was then that an eerie coldness filled the bed chamber, at odds with the raging fire in the grate. Gooseflesh prickled across the Septa’s skin as the chill engulfed her. A cold so biting that she could feel it seep through the numerous layers of her coarse linen robes.

It was strange and unnatural.

With an abrupt rush of wind, the fire was extinguished from the hearth. Snuffing out her last fragile defence against the fear that had suddenly taken hold of her. The room was consumed by darkness and the Septa’s only solace now was a handful of low-burning candles clinging to their flame within the bedside lantern.

She knew she should move; she should attempt to rekindle the logs that smouldered in the fireplace or call out to the guard on the door and yet she could not. Instead, she sat frozen in her chair and was forced to bear witness.

Between the hammering of her own heart, the rasping breaths of the dying Queen and the rain that pounded relentlessly at the window panes, it was hard for the Septa to hear them at first.

The voices started softly and indistinct, like overhearing a conversation in another room, but grew louder and more coherent with each passing moment. Till it was as if they were in the very bed-chamber itself.

Initially, she believed they were children’s voices due to their high and melodic quality. However, as the Septa strained her ears to hear, she soon realised these voices chopped and changed in tone with every few syllables, distorting into a heavier and deeper pitch and then swiftly returning to a higher register.

Stricken with fright, all she could do was listen. Discerning that the voices seemed more masculine than feminine, the Septa tried to focus on distinguishing meaning in the sea of words as the voices continuously talked over each other.

Then she heard it, the common thread. One word was repeated over and over.

“Mother.”

The realisation was scalding, in sharp contrast to the icy air that surrounded her. The Septa’s initial instincts were correct; these were the voices of children - Alicent’s children.

The blinding clarity only seemed to make the voices grow louder. Becoming more frantic and fractured, flicking rapidly between youth and maturity. It was chaotic and confusing, as if years of memories were trying to compress themselves into a single moment. Blurry, broken and half-remembered.

“Where are you, my loves? I can’t see you.” Came the weakened voice from the bed between laboured gasps.

The Septa’s eyes had now adjusted to the dark and she watched in horror as she began to notice the movement of unnatural shapes forming in the gloom.

Hearing them was one thing, but seeing them was another.

Twisting and bending, the four misshapen figures that manifested could not decide what they wished to embody. They shifted in stature and years in the same disturbing manner as their voices, morphing from adult to child and back again.

They crowded the bed, tugging at the bedclothes as they had once tugged at Alicent’s skirts in life, so many years ago. All the while their voices kept on calling for her. It was too much to bear.

This fresh wave of alarm seemed to bring the Septa to her senses and she did the only thing she knew she could. She began to pray, hands clasped together around her seven-pointed star. Shutting her eyes tightly as she recited the words, she wished to hear no more, to see no more.

Time seemed stagnant as each minute that slipped by felt like ten. The Septa focused on her prayers, drawing comfort from the words she knew so well. The familiarity shielding her from the ghoulish sights and sounds around her.

Until all of a sudden, she felt a shift in the air and the voices were gone, fading just as fast as they had come. A balmy glow now beckoned through her closed eyelids.

There was light and warmth as the fire returned to the grate. The logs were ablaze once again, heat flooding the room and banishing the chill which had consumed it.

The Septa took a shaky breath before daring to open her eyes, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of being warm and alive in the peaceful, blessed silence.

As the rain pattered softly against the glass, she realised the storm had passed, along with Alicent Hightower.

Across the water, clinging to the face of the volcano known as Dragonmont, sits the fortress of Dragonstone. A place of salt, smoke and brimstone. The ancestral seat of House Targaryen, a relic of Old Valyria forged by dragonfire and the forgotten magic of Dragonlords.

This castle was the grim and eerie backdrop where some say Aegon II claimed victory over his half-sister, the Black Queen. A hollow and costly victory, which hardly tipped the scales in the face of all that he had lost.

One final petulant jab in this bloody squabble.

Though accounts from both sides of the warring factions differ on many things, they find common ground on one exchange, which took place upon Rhaenyra’s arrival from King’s Landing to find herself betrayed and Aegon in situ.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped you were dead.” Rhaenyra called out at the sight of Aegon’s half-charred and twisted form. Delighted by the small triumph of his injuries and satisfied that even though she would almost certainly die at his hand, Aegon would spend the rest of his days bearing scars done in her name.

“After you. You are the elder.” King Aegon spat back with a pained grin, his jaw clenched hard as he fought to hide the agony that coursed throughout his broken body. He had refused milk of the poppy out of the fear of poisoning and paid tenfold for it.

“I am pleased to know that you remember that.” Rhaenyra replied.

Now friendless and at the mercy of the enemy, Rhaenyra Targaryen was forcefully separated from her son. Little did those present know that once the dust of conflict had finally settled, this child would in fact be King in his own right. But, for now, he was just a boy.

A boy forced to watch his Mother die.

The Realm’s Delight was served up to Aegon’s dragon, Sunfyre, who bathed her in red-hot dragonfire. As the flames consumed her, Rhaenyra raised her head skywards and shrieked out one last curse.

What didn't burn, was swiftly devoured. The final memorial to the Half-Year Queen being nothing more than the scorch marks left on the ancient flagstones.

The words and meaning of Rhaenyra’s dying curse are lost to time, but many suspect it was the root cause for the strange happenings that followed.

It started at the site of her killing, a peculiar sweltering heat rising from the stone for which there was no logical source. Those foolish enough to dare place their hand on the blackened marks themselves would come away harshly burned in searing pain. A mere moment's touch brought about hideous blisters that bubbled on the skin and left the surrounding flesh charred and cracked.

Then came the sightings, it was said that if you ventured to cross the courtyard in the dead of night you may catch a glimpse of the Black Queen herself.

A haunting apparition composed of swirling smoke and glowing embers. The flaming skirts of her gown twirled around her as long silver-gold hair burned bright like white hot iron. Flames licked around her once beautiful face, now reduced to nothing but ash and a pair of hollow eyes.

The smell of burning flesh and brimstone filled the air as an aura of blistering heat that radiated around her form, shimmering and distorting. No words came from her blackened mouth, only thick, choking smoke as she silently screamed, leaving trails of cinders in her wake as she stalked the castle grounds.

Rhaenyra Targaryen conveyed her displeasure through the flame, which had been her demise. Burning anything to which her spirit took offence. Newly hung tapestries were known to spontaneously combust and seven pointed stars melted in their holders.

She may not have held the Seven Kingdoms or sat the Iron Throne, but it was clear that Dragonstone was her domain and even in death she would remain its mistress.

As the decades passed, it appeared her restless soul seemed to quieten - the sudden fires becoming less frequent and sightings fewer and fewer. Till the tales of her spectre had become nothing more than a story to frighten children.

Theories to the reason for this change were in the dozens, some claiming that a young brave Septon had been to Dragonstone and bravely banished the fiery ghoul from the castle, casting her down to the Seven Hells where she belonged.

Others believe her spirit's suddenly passive nature was linked to an even greater shift, something was changing for House Targaryen itself. Where the air of Dragonstone had once been thick with Valyrian enchantment there seemed to be rot.

Their magic was dying, eroding away further and further with each generation.

People once said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men and yet it would seem that the sin of the dance had angered something much older and much crueller than the deity of several aspects worshipped by the faith of the Seven.

This was something ancient and primal that wished to punish them for tearing apart their house with the blessing of dragons that had made them Kings. Many argued that the sins of the Greens and the Blacks were the reason that after the war House Targaryens’ dragons declined, getting smaller and weaker as their power faded with each malformed dragon and unhatched egg.

In the end, the doom of the Targaryen dynasty was inevitable. The damage was done and the dominos would continue to fall uninterrupted. Without their dragons what truly separated them from the other great houses of the Seven Kingdoms?

How long would it be before others saw the mirage for what it was and another contender took their chance for the Iron Throne?

After all, power only resides where men believe it resides. Truth does not matter, only perception and once the illusion of power is extinguished, snuffed out with the dying breath of the last dragon, there is no returning to what once was.

#Rach Writes Sometimes #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction #hotd #House of the Dragon #the dance of the dragons #fire and blood #Daemon Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen #Helaena Targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Alicent Hightower #Aegon ii Targaryen

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imfromthemiddlekingdom · 2 months

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When I engage with the Silmarilion fandom it’s always very educational and enlightening no matter what side they’re on regarding Finwe and his sons. But whenever I interact with the HoTD fandom it’s always “you’re condoning XYZ and therefore you’re a horrible person!!!” Or doing mental gymnastics to try to justify whichever atrocities their side committed.

Thematically both stories are quite similar. We can find parallels with Rhaenyra and Feanor but even at his worst (Pulling a sword on Fingolfin, First kinslaying, burning of the ships etc.) Feanor had never put a bounty on a toddler (Rhaenyra stating that Maelor should be bought to her dead or alive causing him to be ripped apart. Like hello??!??? How is that ever a justifiable thing to do???). I can find parallels between Feanor and Rhaenyra, sure. But if I’m honest the parallels stop with them being the only child of a kings first wife who’s father then went on to face four more kids with another women. Finwe is ten times the father Viserys was. And literally none of the kids (Feanor included) would ever take their anger out on their siblings child like we see the so called Maegor come again do.

But I digress, I was talking of the fandom. I may get heated talking about whether Feanor was right in his anger at Indis or whether Fingolfin should’ve absolutely demanded more reparations from the sons of Feanor when he crossed the ice. But I’ve never seen anyone in the Silm fandom saying that someone should die because they had an opinion.

But I’ve seen many instances of HoTD fans threatening rape and death on people who think Alicent is not the monster they portray her as, or that Rhaenyra isn’t as ‘girl boss queen slay!!!’ As people say she is. Maybe it’s because HoTD is a TV show and many of the fans haven’t read the books and therefore don’t understand nuance since the TV show focuses so much on Rhaenyra’s manifest destiny arc that team green gets painted as the ‘ultimate’ villain for our girl boss queen Rhaenyra to ascend to the throne since it’s her ‘birth right’.

Not to mention how the whole made up show canon prophecy to justify colonialism means that team black stans are really showing their true colors on what they think is right. Because guess what? The Silm also has what could be said to be as a colonizing story line with the Noldor coming to Beleriand and settling but most fans agree that the cutting up of Beleriand was very much a colonizing behavior no matter what they think of Thingol.

Point is, most HoTD fans can’t hold and intellectually simulating debate over their characters without feeling like said debater is personally attacking them since their entire personality is so deeply entwined with their fav that a critique on them would automatically equate to a critique on themselves. Therefore making it entirely impossible to have a decent conversation on the thematically very important foils that Rhaenyra and Alicent pose to each other (since they still think a good story must have a black and white view of the protagonist and the antagonist lmao).

Media illiteracy in these fandoms truly is a cancer that spreads to even the most level headed and literate individuals. Pick up a book! Understand themes and how foils are supposed to be written without internalizing criticism of your fav as a criticism of yourself! I don’t get mad when people criticize Feanor, nor do I get mad when people say I’m wrong when it comes to my own interpretation of the statue of Finwe and Miriel. It’s called having a discussion and you can only do that when you’re not on the front lines dying for a fictional character who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire in front of them!!!

#media literacy #hotd #the silmarillion #feanor #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #anti team black stans #anti team black #pro team green #please I’m begging for people in this god forsaken fandom to stop defending a fictional character with your life #cw rape #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti Rhaenyra Targaryen fans #rhaenyra targaryen #as you can see I despair at the lack of reading comprehension skills and media literacy skills most team black stans have #literally head empty only girl boss slay queen omg she’s such a boss bitch!!!!#if you can’t recognize the flaws in your fav character maybe don’t debate their actions online?#like #a character having irredeemable flaws is like half the reason you like them

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snowprincesa1 · 10 months

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Masterlist 𓅻𓅼𓅽

House of the Dragon 🐉

Daemon Targaryen:

A Fool of a Brother {2 Sept 2023}

{Daemon goes to the Vale to retrieve you, a particular woman who he thinks will help him win his brothers favour👀💟}

A Fool of a Brother🔥 (2/2) {4 Sept 2023}

{Daemon feels upset by your decision to leave kingslanding for the Vale. He would do anything to make you stay 💞💞}

Jacaerys Targaryen:

Seducing the prince🔥{21 Oct 2023}

{Jacaerys is betrothed to his childhood bully and finds pleasure in seeing her attempt to win his love and affection 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨💕💕💕}

Aemond Targaryen:

What bothers you? {2 Sept 2023}

{Aemond is upset by the fact that you won’t reveal to him what ails you 😮‍💨💗}

Aegon Targaryen:

Aegon’s Christine {22 Aug 2023}

{phantom of the opera au! Where prince Aegon attempts to hide his identity from you, a singer he’s obsessed with 💖💋}

Aegon’s Christine🔥 (2/2) {31 Aug 2023}

{Aegon’s plan to bring you to the red keep causes a drift in your relationship with you, will you overcome the hurdles together?}

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Alicent Hightower:

Others:

Fanart Masterlist link

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beneathawesternsky · 2 years

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Writing chapter 15 of Breakbones and the Dragonrider had me thoroughly flustered, y’all… I love writing spice.🌶

AO3/Wattpad

#fan fiction #fanfic #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaewin #rhaenyra x harwin #harwin x rhaenyra #Breakbones and the Dragonrider #beneathawesternsky

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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 2 months

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do you know of any good Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen fanfics.

I don't know if they are good but I can tell you my favourites.

Wrestling with Snakes by madgirlslovesong(Sympathy4theDevil)

The Blacks and the Greens by SweetestPopcorn

Helaena Saw by sweetandviolent

Worse things to be sold for by PixieShips

Bigger than the whole sky by CharlieLeau

Lean on me by Liawhya

Until we are both ashes by Awfullylongtime

Those are the ones I can think of now.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #ao3fic #ao3 link #fan fiction recommendations

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chronicallyfabulous22 · 2 years

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Just thinking about the fact that the Daemon Targaryen tag on AO3 has gone from about seven works to OVER FIFTY and it has been less than a week!

We really are so sick for this and you know what? I love it. The devil works hard but the lure of the original tumblr sexy man works harder.

#look I have been in this fandom since I was fourteen #and I have been fangirling over Matt Smith since I was nine #I knew I was gonna have this brain rot but to see it infect so many people #beautiful #house of the dragon #got #hotd #game of thrones #AO3 #fanfic #fan fiction #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daenyra

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foreverinmyguiltypleasures · 1 year

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A United Little Family CHAPTER 1

Rating: everyone

(House Of The Dragon fan fiction made by me)

characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Jacaerys Velaryon, Lucerys Velaryon, Joffrey Velaryon.

characters briefly mentioned: Laenor Velaryon, Harwin Strong

relationships: daemon x rhaenyra

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“Mother!”

Rhaenyra heard voices outside of her bedroom. She wasn’t concerned because the voices sounded excited and full of joy. Suddenly two bursting bubbles of joy entered her bedroom and climbed on her bed. She noticed that they were already in their riding clothes.

“Mother! I taught Arrax Dracarys!” Lucerys screamed. “He did it so well! I gave him a piece of meat and I said the word and he-“

Jacaerys suddenly put his hand over his brother’s mouth. He noticed little Joffrey in the crib beside his mother’s bed and stopped his own yelling before he silenced Luke’s.

“Jace take your hand off your brother’s mouth” Rhaenyra said scoldingly. But as she was looking around the room, she didn’t see her husband.

“Boys who took you to the dragon pit this morning?” She asked questionably.

The boys looked at each other hesitantly before responding.

“Daemon…did.” Jace spoke. “He came into our room when we were both awake and….asked us what we wanted to do.”

“That was very nice of him”. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but blushing. She knew that the loss of Laenor had created a huge impact on the boys. She knew that Daemon was trying to be a good father to them. But nothing will ever be the same again, and Rhaenyra knows that.

“Where is he now?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I don’t know…. but mother, I thought I heard some noises coming from Joffrey’s egg, and I even fed the dragons this morning!” Luke couldn’t hold in his excitement any longer. “I think they really like me!”

Rhaenyra gently lifted her hand and pressed it to to her younger son’s face.

“Your a Targaryen. A true born Targaryen. A dragon will never ever lie about that.”

The two exchanged a smile before hearing footsteps come into the room.

“Boys….there you..are”. A tall, handsome, silver haired man entered the room panting. “For having little legs you two sure run fast”.

“Daemon!” Luke shouted happily. “I told mother about the dragons!”

Luke jumped off of the bed and ran over to the door.

“Thank you for letting me ride with you on Caraxes!” Luke gave him a brief but touching hug.

Daemon knew that they boys loved dragons and knew that they secretly idolized him because of all of his battle achievements. He desperately wanted to throw all of his affection on the boys but he needed to take it slow. It was all so quick. The boys lost two fathers but gained another at such a fast pace. He wanted to be a family again.

“Don’t worry mother…..Luke didn’t get hurt on Caraxes or anything….he just wanted a ride that’s all.”

“Oh Jace” Rhaenyra pulled her eldest son into an embrace. “I’m not worried at all, I’m happy that you had a good morning filled with fun and joy.”

Daemon and Luke walked away from the door and onto the bed. Luke nuzzled up next to Jace, cuddling in his mothers arms. Daemon chose a spot close to Rhaenyra, but keeping his distance from the boys. He wasn’t sure if Jace and Luke wanted him so close.

“Maybe one day, when your both older, we can all go on our dragons and ride across the seven kingdoms” Rhaenyra said happily.

“Oh mother that would be my greatest dream!”. Luke gave his mother a big kiss on the cheek. Rhaenyra responded with a chuckle, her lips curling into a sweet smile.

In that happy but fleeting moment, Rhaenyra heard some wiggling in the crib beside the bed. She didn’t want to abandon this happy moment with her children, after all they barely ever happened anymore. Daemon knew what his beloved wife was thinking and immediately got up from the bed and picked up the little one.

“But we can’t forget Joffrey of course” Daemon stated. The little baby squirmed in his arms as they got back up on the bed. Rhaenyra embraced her family into one big hug.

“I’m sure we wouldn’t forget Joffrey, right my little boy?” Rhaenyra said in baby talk to her youngest son. Joffrey did a little squeal which made Luke laugh.

This was one of those happy moments that they hadn’t had in a long time.

While the boys were laughing at each other, Rhaenyra looked at Daemon. That one look expressed all the joy that her family had lost. Daemon looked at her back with the biggest smile that she had seen come out of him.

In that moment they both knew that everything was going to be okay. They knew that no matter what happened that they would always be a family, and that they would always be untied with the blood of the dragon.

——————————————————————————————————

Thank you to @dae-daetargaryen @nyctophilic0vitnir and @grandlovescheme for encouraging me, inspiring me, and making me feel confident about my first fic! I give you eternal thanks!!!

#hotd au #hotd fan fiction #one shot #rhaenyra targaryen #daemyra #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #house of the dragon #joffrey velaryon #harwin strong #laenor velaryon #fan fics #asoiaf #hotd #made by me

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pentopaper23 · 2 years

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Hii! Can I request no 34? I was thinking something like them not married at the time but in a secret relationship. They're attending a feast and they can't keep eye-fucking and teasing each other with small touches and they both get frustrated and leave the feast rather unceremoniously to "take care of themselves".

Say no more my friend, I got you.

The shadows had become their escape; silent pants against the stone walls of the keep, faces flushed with pleasure hidden by the dark and sweet words whispered into each other's ears.

Four moons had passed since the deaths of his lady wife and her good husband and three had passed since they had stumbled into the shadowy corner of the castle garden, and he had taken for against the garden wall. Hands scratching and pulling at each other's hair, her loud moans drowned out by the sea below. He remembers rutting into her like a beast pressing her front hard against the stone wall, her skirts up around her waist. She remembers the hard press of his body and the wet line their mixed releases left on her inner thighs has he pulled out of her used centre. He had spun her around and with a laugh pressed their lips together harshly unwilling to break the spell of their coupling so soon.

The next day she leant over to him at breakfast and whispered in his ear about the strange finger sharp marks on her hips and he had choked on his morning ale. She had patted him on the back remarking to their children that that’s what happens if you drank too fast and to heed it as a warning proper table manners.

They spent their days away from the others at court, unknowingly blending their families together. Their children played together like siblings down on the sand as they sat on blankets reading to each other, Daemon deep pronunciation of the High Valyrian words making her eyes close against the harsh rays of the sun. Only to be opened again by a high pitch scream from one of their children as one of the others dunked them into the surf or stuffed sand down the back of their dress.

Only once had Daemon had to step in and break apart two of them when it became too rough. Jace had been sent to bed with a sharp scratch line on his face from Rhaena after he had pulled the ribbon out of her hair, not a great injustice but any standards, but enough for her to tackle him to the sand and for them to fight like to baby dragons, only ending when Daemon has sprung up to stop Rhaena taking out Jace’s eyes. All was smoothed over by breakfast when Daemon led in her son in with a firm hand on his shoulder and Jace gifting his daughter with a new ribbon. Rhaena had quietly apologised for marking his face and had in return given him a cream that she and Rhaenyra had the maester made.

They spent their nights are man and wife. Whether it was him fucking her against the sea wall with her legs wrapped around his waist while they took an evening stroll or her taking him in her mouth as he sat undressing for the night. The nights were theirs. Filled with gentle touches as they laid in bed, his hand roaming over her body and hers tracing the scars that littered his, pressing gentle kisses to the ones that he flinched at.

Night-time feasts were easier to hide their touches under the dinner table, the candle lit rooms making the space between the tablecloth and their laps the perfect place for her to trace his fingers and for him to run his thumb over the healing scar on her wrist. He was vengeful the night the green cunt sliced open his niece's arm, he paced the floor of her rooms as the maesters sewed up the bleeding wound. As soon as they left, he was on his knees before her pledging his service to her rein and the protection of their families, she had gently kissed him on the cheek saying, “I would expect nothing less uncle”.

It was one said feast that she found herself sitting across from him. They shared fleeting looks and Daemon thinks she has never looked more beautiful than she does now. The candlelight brushing over her exposed shoulders, her sweet laugh filling the room when spoke with the lord sitting next to her.

Rhaenyra could feel his heated gaze roaming over her body, she light brushed her fingertips over her collarbone adding slight pressure to the dark bruise that lay just under the collar of her dress. She saw Daemons eyes following her fingers, seeing their last shadowy escape reflected in his eyes. She started rubbing his shin with her foot under the table, she had slipped her shoe off and was running her sock covered foot up and down his leg. She watched him grunt and shift in his chair when her foot made contact with his inner thigh. Pointing her big toe, he traced it down the hard line of his cock, she felt it jerk behind the material of his pants, she saw his hand tighten on his knife and fork. She worked his cock with the sole of her foot feeling a slight wet patch form and his cock become incredibly hard. He grunted again, cutting his food with more force then necessary.

He looked at her from underneath his lashes and she covered her smile with a drink from her cup.

“What say you brother?” The King asked, Daemon jumped and looked at him in confusion having missed the question. Rhaenyra dropped her foot and took another drink of her wine, her teeth biting the rim of the cup.

“Pardon?”, Daemon asked, resting his knife and fork on the table and reaching for his own wine.

“Honestly Daemon’, The king laughed, “I was saying we should hunt tomorrow.”

“I would say he would otherwise engaged dear husband.” Alicent coldly remarked, looking over at the two with hate filled eyes.

“and I would say he wasn’t asking you”, Rhaenyra challenged back, the two women locking eyes. The table fell silent apart from Daemon snorting into his cup.

“Enough daughter,” The King said reaching to place his hand on his wife’s, Rhaenyra watched the action with ice in her veins. Alicent smirked.

“I would say it is.” she said placing her napkin on her plate, “I need to check on the children”.

“I’ll walk you, to many men deep in their cups tonight for you to be wandering around the castle”, Daemon said standing and rounding the table to pull her chair out.

“Quite right brother, see her safely to her rooms”, the King said off headedly with a wave of his hand before going back to his conversation with the green bitch. The bitch in question eyed them with contempt, her eyes falling to the small brush of their hands as Daemon helped her out of her out of her chair. She said nothing to them as they left the room.

“Bitch of a woman”, Rhaenyra had seethed as she and Daemon made their way to the wing that housed their children.

“I would use a different word but yes”, Daemon said moving to walk between her and a drunken lord as they passed in the hallway.

“She has my brother so cunt struck that he can’t see her for what she is”, Daemon seethed as they rounded a corner into an empty hallway. Rhaenyra looked around for any people before pushing him into a curtained off alcove, Daemon landed on a low window ledge with a soft thud. Rhaenyra stepped into the space between his parted legs her hand cupping his face.

“And what would that make you uncle?”, she asked leaning forward to gently kiss his lips. Daemon’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer to himself.

“I see you as you are niece and I want no one else.” he replied reaching around to unlace her dress, pulling the fabric slowly away from her shoulder he licked the dark bruise that she was teasing him with earlier. Rhaenyra moaned loudly rolling her back to grant him further access, her hand tightening in his hair.

“and as for your cunt.” he said sliding a hand up her leg to slide a finger into her wetness, “I wouldn’t want to be stuck by another”. He pushes a long finger into her and she lets out anther loud moan.

“Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.” he mumbled into her neck, his mouth processing to pull and bite at her skin.

“Let them see” she moaned, pulling away from him she lifted her skirts and sat firmly on his lap, her knees resting flush with the cold stone of the window ledge.

“They already think me a whore, why not prove them right” she said grinding her core against the hard length. Daemon pushed her back with fire in his eyes and grabbed her face.

“Don't speak like that. Don’t call yourself their words”, he said firmly brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. They held each other gaze and she nodded.

“You’re not a whore. You’re mine”, and with that he slammed their mouths together.

Their hand frantically pulled at each other clothes, Daemon letting out a loud groan when her hands found their way inside his pants and fished his hard cock out. Bracing herself on his shoulder with one hand while the other delved into the mess of fabric at their waists, she lifted herself up and directed his cock into her warmth. They groaned into each other's mouth as she sat snuggly back down on his lap, he felt her insides flutter at the tight stretch and her nail dug slightly into the skin of his shoulders.

“I always forget how deep you are when I sit astride you” she gasps rolling her hips to try and ease the slight spike of pain. She reached down to run her fingers around the tight stretch of skin, brushing her thumb over her clit. The slight touch made her hips jerk and she slipped down further onto his lap with a high-pitched yelp. Daemon grunted his hand stilling her hips.

“Oh, the seven hells”, he quietly moaned into her chest. He nosed the seam of her dress down to reveal her peaked nipples and pulled one into his waiting mouth. Rhaenyra went to move her hips, but his hands continued to hold her still.

“Kepa...”, she whined tightening her internal muscles around his hard length. Daemon pulled away from her breast with painful bite to the nipple. They locked eyes as he slowly moved her up and then down again, their breaths mixing as they both panted at the movement. Rhaenyra reached down to move his hand to cup her breasts and braced herself again on his shoulders. She started to move her hips back and forward grinding her clit against his pubic bone, she felt a flood of wetness seep out from around his cock.

“Take your pleasure my little dragon”, Daemon encouraged as he lent back to rest against the windowpane. Moving her hands to rest on his chest Rhaenyra grabbed handfuls of his shirt and started to ride him.

Her legs start to shake as she gasps and moans on top of him, his hand reached back up to pinch and twister her nipples making her back arch. Daemon smirks, and begins to thrust his hips up, rolling them perfectly in time with her down strokes. Rhaenyra speeds up sound of their hips frantic and needy. Her hand flys down to rub fast circles around her clit, her whole body tightening as she peaks. Daemon continues to fuck through her high, his hands now slamming her down onto his cock, pushing through the fluttering ring of muscle at her wet entrance.

“Again”, he commands as he feels his balls tightens in their sack and he bites the skin of her neck breaking the skin. A small trail of blood runs down her chest slipping down under her loosened dress. Her hips start making short jerking movements as her fingers fly across her clit again.

“Daemon please...”, she begs throwing her head back as in a silent scream has the head of his cock hit a soft spongey part inside her, she feels a flood of wetness leave her and she shakes in his arms her mouth open trying to gasp in air, she falls forward into his chest.

“That's it”, Daemon pants his thrust starting to become more feral, he can feel that she has spilled out onto his pants, and he can hear the loud sucking noises as he fucks in and out of her gripping hole. Rhaenyra has gone boneless in his arms her soft moans and sobs buried in his chest as she sucks and licks at his nipples. Daemon yells her name as he stiffens, his cock jerking inside of her embedding his seed. He reaches down to flick her clit; she lets out a slightly pain filled scream and rears up throwing her head back and he feels her channel tighten around his spurting cock. He watches as her climax peaks as she gasps for air, his name falling from her lips. He fucks her through his own climax groaning as he feels his balls loosening. His thrusts become slower as they both start to jerk in oversensitivity, and she falls forward into his chest.

Daemons hips come to a stop, and they sink into each other, his arms wrapping around her to all melt them together. The alcove is silent as she runs her fingers over the light hair on his chest. Their breathing falls into sync as he gently brushes his fingertips up and down her back. He can still feel her pulsing around his softening cock and he gives his hips a slight roll.

“Dont you dare, I’ll cut it off.” she sighs, then gasps as she lifts her hips up letting him slide out of her. A flood of wetness follows his cock out and she shudders at the feeling of it as she sits back down. Daemon feels his cock jerk against her lower stomach as he remembers hitting the spongey place inside her. He had heard that some silk street doves were able to perform that act, but he had never witnessed it himself. He filed away the thoughts for later, maybe when he was on his knees for her, he would try and find it with his fingers.

“If you cut it off, how will I find that spot again?” He muses and brushes the sweat soak hair from her face.

“You are going nowhere near that spot”, she laughs as she stands on shaky legs.

Daemon stays seated slowly palming his cock while he watches her redress, only standing up when she turns her back to him and asks him to relace her dress. He presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck as he tucks in the loose ends of her laces, his arms wrapping around and pulling her to his chest.

“We won’t always have to hide.” he says joining their hands together on her stomach, silently pleading for the gods to make his seed take.

She nods, resting her head back on his chest as he starts to slowly sway them.

“I know.”

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Hello Ange 👋 May I request a Threesome with Alicent, Rhaenyra and a female OC? 🤭 Maybe throw some mommy and corruption kink into it, however you like 🤗

Thank you so much for the request, Laura! I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: Voyeurism, wlm content, tiddy succin, a slap between the legs, oral (f receiving, duh), fingering. Slight manipulation. Smut. Word count: ~1400

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

It is noon and a fresh Springtime breeze circulates through the halls of the Red Keep, as you make your way up the stone staircase of Maegor’s Holdfast, towards the Queen’s apartments. A bundle of clean linens are nestled in your arms, prepared to do the day’s turndown of the bed. You are running behind today. Since the arrival of Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, along with all of their children, you seemed to be late to do everything. The Dragonstone visitors had more than doubled your workload.

You push your way through the heavy wooden doors, sending a silent prayer to the Mother that Queen Alicent would not be present to scold you for your tardiness. However, it is another sound entirely that fills your ears upon entering the bedchamber.

The lilt of soft moans and giggles causes you to pause, not daring to trust what you are hearing until the cadence begins to increase. The right thing to do in that moment would be to turn and walk back down the staircase that carried you here, however, curiosity propels you forward until the Queen’s four poster bed is in view.

Through the gaps in the gauzy material that hangs suspended from the wooden bedframe, you can make out two writhing, naked bodies. Alicent lays flat on her back, her pretty face contorted in pleasure as a silver haired woman lays with her head buried between her thighs.

Alicent’s eyes fly open, wide with horror, as you gasp at the sight before you. You realise it is Rhaenyra that she is coupling with, as she turns to face you, and you stand frozen in shock for perhaps a little too long. Your eyes rake over the supple curves of their bodies, the way the sweat glistens on their flesh, highlighting the subtle pink flush of their skin.

You force yourself to look away, uttering a string of rambled apologies as you turn and flee from the room, still clutching the bedclothes tightly to your chest.

You don’t tell a soul what you have witnessed, all too aware of the implications it would have. Instead, you keep your head down and focus on your work around the Keep. The image of what you saw earlier that morning refuses to leave your mind, however, and you are perplexed by the feeling of warmth that spreads between your legs whenever you think about it.

It is the witching hour and you are about to prepare for sleep when Alicent’s lady’s maid informs you that the Queen has requested your presence in her quarters, at once. Fear gnaws at your insides as you make your way to the other side of the castle. You’ve no real reason to feel afraid of her, she has never been unkind to you, yet you have never walked in on anything quite so scandalous before. You do not know what to expect.

When you are beckoned inside upon knocking at the door, you are startled to see Rhaenyra before you. She stands in a thin cotton shift, her long pale hair loose around her shoulders and her hands clasped in front of her.

She cocks her head to the side, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Did you have fun spying earlier?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, I swear!” You protest, panic bubbling in your chest, causing your heart to hammer wildly against your ribcage.

“Oh, kēlītsos, I know you didn’t.” She steps towards you, gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “But that’s not what I asked, is it?” Kitten.

You gaze wide-eyed at her, not quite knowing what the High Valyrian word she just spoke to you means, beyond the fact that the sound of it makes you clench around nothing. “I-I wasn’t spying.” You stammer, wetting your lips with your tongue.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker downwards to your mouth and then back up again. “But you liked it.”

She smirks when your only response is a pitiful whine. “Don’t think your behaviour won’t go unpunished.”

“Oh, ‘Nyra! Don’t be so cruel to the poor girl.”

Your head whips around to where Alicent is reclining on the bed. The sheer fabric of her nightgown leaves the outline of her nakedness just about visible in the candlelight. Your eyes dart between the Queen and the Princess, unsure of what to make of the situation that’s playing out before you.

Rhaenyra releases your chin, taking your hand and guiding you towards the bed, gesturing for you to sit. You perch on the edge and immediately Alicent moves to place delicate hands upon your shoulders, sweeping your hair away from your neck.

“You don’t think she deserves to be punished for her prying eyes?” Rhaenyra asks offhandedly, dexterous fingers pulling at the laces that hold the front of your dress together.

“No.” Comes Alicent’s response, pressing a featherlight kiss to your neck that causes you to shiver. “She ought to be rewarded for her silence.”

“Would you like that, kēlītsos? A reward?” Rhaenyra asks, a hint of subtle mocking in her tone.

You have no idea what that could possibly mean, but if it serves to prolong the heady feeling of anticipation that’s steadily building inside of you, you will more than gladly accept. Fervently you nod your head.

Rhaenyra pushes you to lay back and you let out a squeal as she pushes up your skirts, dragging your small clothes down your legs.

“Shhh…it’s okay.” Alicent coos, laying beside you and stroking your hair.

You stare into her soft brown eyes, taking comfort in the mixture of kindness and desire you see reflected back at you.

A sharp stinging sensation between your legs causes you to cry out, as Rhaenyra delivers a slap to your slick folds. “Stop making a fuss. Alicent may be a soft touch, but I’m not. Ungrateful little brat.”

You whimper, the pain quickly subsiding to a pleasurable aching sensation.

Alicent leans in, capturing your lips with her own and kisses you tenderly. “You’ll be good for us now, won’t you?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper.

“Good girl.”

She kisses you again and you mewl into it as you feel the flat of Rhaenyra’s tongue work itself against you, once, twice, three times, before the tip comes to bully at your pearl.

“You’re doing so well for us.” Alicent soothes, working a hand inside your loosened bodice to pinch gently at your nipples.

You arch your back, the sensation of it combined with Rhaenyra’s tongue lapping at you causes an irresistible tightening in your lower belly.

You fist the sheets as you feel Rhaenyra push a finger inside of you, a lewd moan escaping your throat.

“Shut her up.” She snaps, looking up from between your thighs, before crooking her finger to push and pull against a spot deep inside of you that makes your legs tremble.

“You mustn’t be so loud.” Alicent tells you. “Here.”

She pulls down the neckline of her nightdress, revealing the plush swell of her breasts to you and guides your head towards them.

Greedily you suckle a pebbled peak into your mouth, reveling in how Alicent threads her fingers into your hair, sighing in satisfaction.

You feel yourself beginning to tighten, Alicent’s insistent tugging at your roots and Rhaenyra’s tongue and fingers expertly working at your core serve to push you closer and closer to the edge. With a final flick of the Princess’ tongue against your bud with a well timed thrust of her finger, you fall apart, tightening and spasming uncontrollably in the throes of ecstasy.

You pull away from Alicent, desperate for the release of being able to cry out, but she is quick to capture your lips with her own, muffling your sounds with heated kisses.

Once you’re calmed, Rhaenyra lifts herself away from you, wiping at her mouth and chin with the back of her hand, as Alicent cradles your head against her chest.

“You taste divine, kēlītsos.” Rhaenyra purrs. “Would you like to taste us too?”

“Yes.” You croak out weakly, mind too hazy with bliss to fully comprehend what you are being asked.

“Good.” She says, crawling to lay at the other side of you. “Keep this to yourself and we shall give you the opportunity to do just that.”

#rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader x alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen smut #alicent hightower smut #rhaenyra targaryen fan fiction #alicent hightower fan fiction #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction

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